


The Space We Make

by TheMalapert



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, But also everybody switches, Communication, Dirty Talk, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff, GASP, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Mentions of poly Yennnefer, Modern AU, OT3, Oral Sex, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Past Relationship(s), Polyamory Negotiations, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, Thruple, Top Eskel (The Witcher), Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, just because
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMalapert/pseuds/TheMalapert
Summary: Jaskier and Eskel give in to their mutual attraction the same night Geralt pulls his head out of his ass. With a new outlook on how to navigate a relationship with either of the men he loves, Geralt comes home only to find those two men have already found each other. Luckily, Jaskier and Eskel stick around to pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 17
Kudos: 189





	The Space We Make

**Author's Note:**

> TW: there's a brief mention of suicidal ideation for one of the characters. None of the characters at present go through suicidal thoughts, but a past episode is referenced.

Jaskier’s back slammed door with enough force to knock a moan from his throat. Eskel swallowed it, big hands roaming over the body curving into his touch. 

They’d been dancing around this for weeks. Ever since Geralt had been occupied with daughter duties and had sent his brother to fix Jaskier’s notoriously unreliable air conditioning. They’d met before, of course, would even call each other friends, but when Eskel stepped into the sweltering apartment, it felt like meeting Jaskier for the first time. In a _really_ cheesy porno. Jaskier was wearing nothing but scandalously short cut offs, and sweat glistened on his hairy chest. Not to mention the fucking _popsicles_. 

“I jacked off in my truck when I told you I was getting more tools,” Eskel breathed, unfastening Jaskier’s pants like his life depended on it. 

Jaskier answered with a laugh, shoving at his clothes. “I fucked myself on my fingers when you were out. Just in case you—“

Eskel lifted Jaskier away from the door, wrapping two strong legs about his waist. He licked into the singer’s mouth, usually used to croon poorly-hidden verses about _Geralt_. But Geralt wasn’t here. It was Eskel’s hands pushing underneath Jaskier’s shirt, Eskel’s pants hitting the floor. _Eskel’s bed_. 

“Fuck,” Jaskier groaned. “Oh, Eskel you _have_ to know what you do to me.”

“Tell me.” Eskel’s lips traveled down Jaskier’s throat, sucking and biting marks that drew out little desperate gasps. 

“Oh, darling.” Jaskier’s fingers threaded into Eskel’s hair. “ _Oh_ , the things you say. I swear you could just talk to me in that deep, sexy voice of yours—“

_Grating. Metallic. Scary._

“—I bet I could come from just that. And, Eskel, fuck my darling, you’re just so big everywhere. Can’t wait to have you in my ass or in my mouth. You’re gunna ruin me, absolutely _ruin.”_

_Too big. Too threatening._

Jaskier cut off with a yelp as Eskel drew his teeth around one hardened nipple. With barely a tug, Eskel moved on, kissing down, chin bumping the hard jut of Jaskier’s cock beneath his boxers. 

“You say such sweet things to me,” Eskel rumbled. He tucked his fingers underneath the band and caught Jaskier’s lidded gaze as he slid the boxers down. 

“You deserve them,” Jaskier said, and Eskel stalled where his mouth hovered over newly revealed flesh. Jaskier ignored the hot breath on his cock, the ache and throb that demanded a hand, a mouth, _anything_ . He tugged Eskel’s hair until their lips again collided, and Jaskier repeated, “ _You deserve them._ ”

“Jaskier.” Eskel melted into the kiss, pressing their naked bodies together. His hips sought friction, grinding his cock into Jaskier’s thigh. Jaskier curved, arching, and slotted their hips together. They both moaned, cocks brushing together with every desperate roll. 

“Eskel, _Eskel_ I want—“ Jaskier fell back into the pillows, and he gripped tight to Eskel’s hair. 

“What do you want? Anything,” Eskel said. 

“I want your dick in my ass!” Jaskier snapped. 

Eskel huffed a laugh and bounced off the bed. Jaskier pouted, making grabby hands, but Eskel shook his head fondly. He rummaged through the top drawer of his bureau. 

“Not fuck enough to keep it handy?” Jaskier stretched out languidly, making an unfairly salacious picture on Eskel’s bed. Eskel shot him a look, one raised eyebrow, and Jaskier laughed, “Yeah, me neither these days.”

“Those rumors about De Stael not true?” Eskel tossed socks to his floor, mussing his entire top drawer. 

“Has she been saying we got back together? She broke up with me!” 

“I didn’t believe it, of course,” Eskel said. “Fuck.”

He rocketed out of the room, door banging against the wall. Jaskier tried not to laugh, but his eyes were brimming with mirth when Eskel again appeared, naked with a bottle and a condom in his hand. Eskel tossed the lube onto the bed and crawled to settle over Jaskier. He traced the tinfoil pack over Jaskier’s side, rough edges making Jaskier shiver.

“I wasn’t sure if… I mean, about what you just said. I was clean the last time I got checked and—” Jaskier’s eyes grew as Eskel babbled, flipping the condom nervously between his fingers. 

“I haven’t slept with anyone since my last check. All good, if that’s something you’d _want_ to do…”

“Yeah,” Eskel answered, too quickly. 

“Okay.” Jaskier was never shy, but suddenly, he was blushing. It had been a long time since he’d been with someone sans protection, since before Steal, maybe even all the way back to Valdo in college. Ugh, Jaskier pulled himself away from thoughts of his worst ex-boyfriend, watching Eskel slick up his fingers.

“I have never in my life done anything to deserve this,” Eskel murmured, running gentle fingertips over where Jaskier’s thighs spread wide. The singer groaned, every light touch stoking the flames of his need. 

“This is nothing, darling,” Jaskier breathed. Eskel’s wet fingers stalled as they’d finally come to rub at the singer’s hole. Jaskier pressed his head back into the bed and continued breathlessly, “Don’t you get it? You don’t have to do a damn thing. I’d be on my knees for you for just a smile. This? This is my thanks to you for _existing._ ”

Eskel hummed contemplatively and let the pad of one finger breach Jaskier’s hole. He felt the tight ring relax, accepting him easily to the second knuckle. It shouldn’t have been so alluring, but Jaskier’s absolute determination… it sparked something feral in Eskel. 

“This isn’t nothing, Jaskier,” Eskel answered. “This is everything. You are—fuck, do you know how many people cross the street to avoid sharing a sidewalk with me? How many dates lose interest once they see my face?”

Jaskier let out a choked sob when Eskel pressed in another finger. He thrust harshly, haphazardly, brushing past Jaskier’s prostate with every third push, but Eskel’s goal was much more selfish than to watch Jaskier cry and come on his fingers. If they did this again, Eskel would be sure to take his time. 

“The fact that you’re not afraid blows my mind, but that you want me? Seriously? Fuck, Jaskier, you’re everything,” Eskel said. Jaskier let out a high whine, hips jerking involuntarily so that Eskel’s crooked fingers stabbed into his prostate. Jaskier stilled, panting, and his previously far-off gaze zeroed in on Eskel’s face. 

Eskel’s heart dropped like a cold stone into his stomach, and he was about to apologize for making it weird when Jaskier commanded, “Put your dick in me right now.”

Eskel scrambled to comply, gripping Jaskier’s thighs with slippery hands and guiding his cock between Jaskier’s cheeks. The swollen head bumped and slid over Jaskier’s warm, wet, _inviting_ hole, but Eskel didn’t press forward. 

“You have to tell me if it hurts. I know I didn’t prepare you well enough—“

“I want your fat cock to tear me open this second, Eskel.”

“But I still don’t want to hurt you, I—“

“ _Right now, Eskel.”_

“Okay,” Eskel breathed. He clutched at Jaskier’s hip and pushed. 

The head popped in, and they both groaned at the sensation. Jaskier gripped him like a vice, still so tight, but Eskel couldn’t wait anymore. He eased himself down, hips undulating so every second was a push and pull on Jaskier’s rim, one step back, two steps forward, until he was buried to the hilt. 

“Wait a moment, darling, _fuck._ You feel—“ Eskel was a hot, heavy weight inside Jaskier, apparently intent on making him stupid, making him lose his words, good for nothing but taking that glorious cock. Jaskier fell away, emptying himself to make room for the rising pleasure, the burn and stretch. The sheer girth of Eskel’s cock. His core flexed, trying to move his hips, but he could _feel_ Eskel even before he started shifting. With a throaty moan, Jaskier used decades of vocal training to tighten his lower muscles, clenching around Eskel, drawing a strangled noise from the man. 

“Can I?”

“Fuck, yes!”

Eskel started slowly at first, pulling out just halfway before inching back in. Jaskier went wild, and his hands started roaming, tugging, pinching every bit of Eskel’s flesh. He rubbed harshly over Eskel’s nipples, bringing them to hard peaks before he buried his hands in Eskel’s hair and all but dragged him down for a kiss. It didn’t last long, but it was filthy. Tongues and teeth, and then Jaskier was kissing down his jaw, up his cheek, over his scars. Eskel couldn’t help the way his cock throbbed, the way his body jerked forward, slamming hard into Jaskier’s body. The singer arched, rubbing his cheek over Eskel’s scars, and let out a moan that was downright sin. 

“That’s it, _please,_ give it to me!”

Eskel was helpless to refuse. 

…

Geralt watched his cigarette butt slowly die on the dark concrete two stories below. He didn’t smoke—he _didn’t._ Suddenly acquiring a daughter turned his whole life upside down, and little things like the occasional smoke break fell off the table. This was a special occasion, though. It was less a bad habit just then, and more… commemorative. 

Head hanging out his ex-wife’s bedroom window, waiting for her to return after she finished her cigarette, this was not how he saw his night going. He thought it was going to be like any other night. 

He’d let his girls have the house, no use for it from an old bachelor like himself, and he’d moved in with Eskel after Lambert was going to bail on a two year lease to live with his boyfriend. In a way, everything worked out fine. He still came over and stayed sometimes. The anniversary of the death of Ciri’s grandparents, Geralt stayed for the whole week. He stayed the night before her birthday so they could wake and party as a family. He stayed a lot around the holidays. As the divorce settled and Ciri got older, he stayed less, and he felt guilty for being relieved about it. Yennefer had a revolving door of friends who came for months at a time, taking sabbatical or working on special projects in the area. 

Triss, who taught Ciri how to bake and who got Yennefer to reconnect with their friends from boarding school. Sabrina, who taught Ciri archery (which Geralt was less enthused about) and who had been the only person to date that Yennefer had ever truly forgiven for betraying her. Even Tissaia who came down for two weeks when Geralt was out of town for work and Ciri’s nightmares had gotten so bad that she’d hit Yennefer. It had taken too long for Geralt to realize Yennefer didn’t need one person. No matter how much both of them fought to keep this idea of their tragic, heroic romance alive, Yennefer needed more. And Geralt? Well, sometimes it felt he needed _less._ Less drama, less eggshells underfoot. So Geralt found himself glad when Yennefer found herself elsewhere. He was happy to share the best—and worst—parts of being in love with Yen. 

That was about when their two hour uncomfortable but necessary conversation had turned against him. 

Yennefer freely admitted to being a little in love with Triss and Sabrina and hell, even Tissaia. It was a big step after believing her whole life she didn’t have what it took to love. After feeling like Geralt was confirmation. 

And then she’d gone quiet. 

Eyebrows raised, waiting. 

“That’s… good,” Geralt said, and she rolled her eyes. 

“So living with your first crush and having a best friend clearly ready to spread ‘em for you hasn’t awoken anything?”

Okay, so maybe they were adults, but this was _uncomfortable,_ so Geralt could appreciate how the crude humor was the only way Yennefer was getting through this. 

“Jaskier’s willing to spread them for anybody,” Geralt mumbled. His chest tightened as he thought, _and I hurt Eskel too much the first time we tried._

“Jaskier is in love with you,” Yennefer said, and Geralt blinked. “Eskel is too, by the way, but they both know you’re too wrapped up in… in me! And all this bullshit! That’s also why I thought we should end it. For good this time. Not just for me, but for you, Geralt.”

“Yen, I don’t think—“ Geralt cut off with a grunt, reaching up to rub his forehead. 

“It’s time to move on,” Yennefer said softly. 

His brow crumpled, and he rasped, “I don’t know if I _can.”_

“Oh, Geralt.” Yennefer hugged him tightly, and Geralt buried his face in her hair. He inhaled the familiar scent, lilac and gooseberries swirling around the fist in his chest. He couldn’t do it if it meant never having this again. 

Yennefer rubbed his back in circles and said, “Moving on doesn’t mean you have to stop loving me. It’s not like I’ll ever stop loving you and missing some of our good times, but… we have to stop trying to go back to a perfect time that never existed. Moving on means _making room.”_

Geralt sniffed—allergies due to Yennefer’s hatred of dusting. He wasn’t crying. 

“Was that Triss?” He asked, pulling away to see a similar not-crying look on Yen’s face. 

“Tissaia, actually.” Yen giggled. “I’m sure you would have gotten the same advice if you ever really talked to those idiots who care about you.”

Which led to the next problem. 

“I don’t want to choose,” Geralt said, barely above a whisper. 

Yennefer went silent. Her ability for advice only extended so far. 

“Then you should at least enjoy them. More than you have been,” Yen said after a while. 

And then they were sharing a couple cigarettes, leaning out the window to combat the smell. 

Yennefer returned, another in her hand, and the lighter flared to life. She offered Geralt the first pull, but he declined. 

“I guess if something happens, it happens, right?” He said, mostly to the stars, but Yen hummed around her mouthful of smoke. 

“That always worked for us.”

Geralt felt lighter on his way home. Buoyant. Plans crept slowly into his head. Eskel always loved stargazing; maybe there was a meteor shower soon. They could head away from the city lights and camp. And Jaskier’s newest song was good. Geralt had forgotten to tell him when they’d been hanging out earlier, when he’d gotten the text that said _Ciri’s at a sleepover._

He loved watching Jaskier’s face light up with praise. 

Jaskier was still there when Geralt got home. The bastard was probably coercing Eskel into making him dinner—Jaskier’s cooking skills were about as good as his ability to be quiet. 

Geralt didn’t smell any cooking when he walked in, mind turning over his new possibilities. Jaskier had begged him for years to attend the local musical festival, and he might have to buy a ticket this year, and—

The sounds didn’t hit him until he’d fully walked through the living room. Desperate, needy moans and skin slapping, two voices that were _so familiar_ twined in a heated harmony. He knew what was happening. On a logical level, he knew. But the sounds were coming from Eskel’s room, and Jaskier’s car was still outside. 

And Eskel’s door was open. 

His feet moved of their own accord, but he froze on the spot when he caught sight of them. 

Jaskier was on his back, sweat glimmering and eyes screwed shut. Eskel was plowing into him like a man possessed, one arm wrapped under Jaskier’s thigh, nearly bending Jaskier in half as his hips pistoned. Geralt could see where Eskel’s thick cock disappeared into Jaskier’s body, mesmerizing, tantalizing. Distantly, he was aware that he was hard, dick straining against his pants, but everything crumbled underneath the ugly, twisting jealousy that ran through him like lightning. 

He’d forgotten how Eskel’s cock felt—it had been so long—and he’d _never_ known how Jaskier felt. Here they were, enjoying themselves, while Geralt watched like a fucking creep, watched something that wasn’t meant for him, would never be for him.

Jaskier came just from the stimulation of Eskel’s cock, and Geralt’s jaw cracked with how hard he ground his teeth. Eskel came moments after, like the end to a dance, synchronized and beautiful, and Geralt had the vaguest memory of Eskel’s seed leaking out of him onto a beach towel. 

That memory didn’t replay here. There was no awkward fumbling, teenagers putting distance from their feelings, boys hurting each other to feel like men. Eskel sighed dreamily, kept his cock in the snug embrace of Jaskier’s ass, and leaned down to kiss him. Like they were lovers. Like they were _in love._

How did that happen without Geralt noticing?

“I guess I should clean you up a bit,” Eskel said, voice gravelly and sated. His head swivelled to look for something close by. Before Geralt realized what was happening, before he could unclench a single taut muscle to move, Eskel’s eyes landed on him. 

Eskel’s breath hitched, Jaskier following his line of sight until he too stiffened. 

Geralt was out of the doorway like he was dodging a bullet. He rocketed down the hall and wrenched open his door, the hinges shrieking in protest. He slammed it shut, locking the knob, and he was safely ensconced in his room. But he was far from safe. 

…

“ _Fuck_.” Eskel hoisted himself out of bed, soft cock slipping out of Jaskier in the process. Eskel shivered at the loss, but Jaskier let his legs fall woodenly, silent since finding Geralt in the doorway. 

Eskel didn’t have time to deal with that. The biggest problem first, Geralt first. Because Eskel knew Geralt’s _soul._ Had been there through every scar, every fight, every breakup—even when it was his own. Eskel knew what Geralt looked like when he was heartbroken, and this was _worse._ Eskel threw on a pair of joggers, flying down the hallway.

Eskel tried the knob in vain and snarled as he pounded on the door. “Geralt, open the fuck up!”

“Go away,” Geralt said, distantly like he was pressing his face into something. 

“Geralt, you promised me. After last time, you promised you wouldn’t lock doors anymore. Please, _please_ , open the door,” Eskel pleaded. 

Because he’d been there when it was bad. 

When it was the worst. 

Just before meeting Yennefer, when Geralt found out he’d accidentally knocked up an engaged one-night stand. When he hadn’t slept for days, when he’d lashed out at Jaskier and the singer took a tumble down a flight of stairs. Eskel was there when Geralt got home from the hospital, when Geralt locked his door and Eskel had to break it down to get in. When he found Geralt curled in the corner and Vessmir’s .22 neatly arranged on the bed. Freshly cleaned. Not loaded. 

The doorknob clicked, and Eskel rushed in. 

“‘S not like that, Esk. I just freaked out a little,” Geralt mumbled, back turned as he shuffled toward his bed. 

Eskel knew it was a cheap shot, but Geralt had promised. And it got the door unlocked. 

“You never told me,” Eskel said quietly. 

The tension rolled across Geralt’s shoulders, thunder over the plains, and Eskel could see him trying and failing to control it. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Geralt said. 

“You never told me. That you love him.”

Silence, thicker than fog and just as heavy in his lungs. Geralt shrugged one shoulder as he pretended to care about making his bed. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Geralt repeated, and Eskel sighed heavily. After a beat, “Yen and I broke up for good this time, so I’m just not in the mood for the trauma of seeing you fuck my best friend. I’ll have the jokes ready by morning.”

The humor was too dry and cracked to do anything but chafe, and Eskel sighed, “Geralt, we all see the way he looks at you, but you never—I mean, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not his keeper,” Geralt snapped. _He’s not mine._ “Don’t fucking apologize.”

“Then don’t act like you’re not pissed about it!” 

“Fine!” Geralt shouted, whirling to glare at Eskel with a frenzied sneer. “You think I want to have broken up with my ex-wife, to lose her for good, and come back to find you _flaunting_ the fact that my best friend is an insufferable slut?”

“Geralt, we weren’t—“

“You think I _want,”_ Geralt hissed, cutting himself off with a mournful rasp in the back of his throat. Quieter but with no less venom, he said, “You think I want to see the way he looks at you? That you look at him?”

“Geralt,” Eskel said, taking a step forward but stopping when Geralt flinched back. “It’s not _serious._ It just happened, you know? It’s just sex.”

“Leave me alone.” All the fight left Geralt at once, and he collapsed back on his bed. “I promise I’ll be less of an ass in the morning. Please leave me alone now.”

He didn’t need to look up to see how disappointed Eskel was. Eskel turned and left, shutting the door softly. 

The loneliness was suffocating. 

Breaking up with Yen—if they could even call it that—hadn’t been upsetting. Really, Geralt had dreaded the day, had nightmares about the day, but he walked away relieved. With opportunities ahead. Now this. Now, the two people he’d counted on to be there had found each other while he dragged his feet. He would be happy for them, eventually, but the loneliness was staggering. He didn’t even have Yen to go back to. He didn’t have anyone. 

Eskel found Jaskier tossing the bed to find his phone. The singer was dressed, shoes shoved on his feet and bright pink button up hanging half open. He looked down guiltily when his phone flew off the bed and hit Eskel’s bare foot. Eskel hardly flinched. 

“You were just going to leave?” He asked, scooping up Jaskier’s phone. He considered holding it hostage, but he dropped it in Jaskier’s outstretched hand. 

He hated the way Jaskier looked anywhere but him, expression shuttering. “I was going to wait around to see if I could do anything, but he sounded pretty angry. Then, I… thought I’d save everyone the awkwardness. Not like we’re serious.”

 _Fuck._ “Jaskier…”

“Nobody needs comfort from an insufferable slut,” Jaskier said. 

“ _Jaskier.”_ Eskel stepped forward, gently placing his hands against Jaskier’s hot face. He waited until their eyes met. “I didn’t mean that, and neither did he. I _do_ care about you, more than just a fuck, and I’d like to talk about getting serious, if that’s what you want, but… I thought it was what he wanted to hear.”

“Why?” Jaskier whispered. His blue, blue eyes shimmered with barely there tears, and Eskel would give anything not to have them fall. 

“Because he’s not mad. He’s jealous,” Eskel explained. 

He didn’t understand the myriad of emotions that flickered over Jaskier’s face. Surprise and anger and sadness, and Jaskier beat him to the punch. 

“He told me about you, you know. Once. So I understand,” Jaskier said. 

It was Eskel’s turn for confusion—“What?”

“I get it,” Jaskier said, firmer this time. “He told me about your relationship when you were young. He told me he regretted hurting you and that if he had a do-over, he’d try harder. Geralt was first, and Geralt’ll be last. Really, Eskel, I don’t think anyone could understand as well as I can.”

“You think Geralt’s jealous because he wants _me?”_ Eskel’s head was reeling, memories splashing across where he tried to focus on Jaskier’s watery smile. Young, harsh love. Fumbling bodies in dark corners, having an ally in a world that didn’t want you. Geralt was the one who broke it off, said he wanted something different. Nevermind that Eskel would have beaten himself into any shape that Geralt desired. 

“Yes, darling. You have to stop with the self-deprecation. It’s not sexy,” Jaskier said, and he laid his hand over where Eskel’s still cradled his face. Jaskier pressed a short kiss to Eskel’s palm. “Next to Yennefer, you’re the only one I know he’s loved.”

“He and Yennefer talked. They’re off for good, he said.” Eskel didn’t know why he addressed that part of it when he should have been correcting Jaskier on any number of things. 

Jaskier’s face crumpled. 

“He and Yennefer talked,” Jaskier said. 

“Yeah.”

“And then… us,” Jaskier said. Eskel let his hands drop. 

“Yeah.”

“And he’s not doing well, is he?” Jaskier’s fingers caught the edges of his sleeves, fidgeting with the fabric. 

“No. He’s not.”

Jaskier bit his lip, and it squeezed something in Eskel’s chest. Something he didn’t know if he was allowing anymore. Jaskier blew out a breath and asked, “Can I stay?”

Eskel let his head nod slowly to answer Jaskier’s question. “You want to talk to him?” 

Maybe it would be better if Jaskier talked to him. They could work out their shit, and Eskel could fade into the background like he was good at. Like he always did. 

“Oh, he’s not going to talk,” Jaskier laughed humorlessly. He shucked off his button up and picked up one of Eskel’s sweatshirts. “He never talks when he’s like this—I hope you don’t mind. We may have popped a button in our haste, and I don’t think that’s the right mood. Anyways, no. I know I’m always talking, but I do know when to shut up. I just… I can’t let it go, you know? Anything, really, but especially him. I can’t let _him_ go.”

If Eskel wasn’t already crushing hard, Jaskier’s fumbling speech would have tipped him right over. Also the sight of Jaskier in his clothes. 

“So come on, let’s get this over with.”

Jaskier laced his fingers through Eskel’s and pulled him out of the room, all while Eskel’s mind screamed. This was not how it was supposed to go. Jaskier wasn’t supposed to _bring him along._ Fuck!

Geralt was still laying on his bed, an arm tossed over his eyes. He had no defense when Jaskier took a small leap and landed on his chest. 

“ _Oof_ —Jaskier!” 

The singer pulled the hood of Eskel’s hoodie up, over his face, tucking his head tight against Geralt’s chest and snaking arms around his waist to ride it out. His feet flailed off the bed as Geralt made a token effort to dislodge him. He toed off his shoes, the double _thunk_ s loud in the room, and wrapped one leg around Geralt’s thigh. Geralt had promised himself that he was never going to use his strength on Jaskier again, not after a calloused shove nearly took Jaskier for good, but the singer was tap dancing on his last nerve. 

He’d already broken one rule tonight. He took in a deep breath, chest expanding under Jaskier’s weight. 

He wasn’t going to break another. 

“Jaskier,” he said evenly. “Get the fuck off.”

“No.” 

Muffled by the hood and Geralt’s shirt, Jaskier sounded even more petulant than usual. Geralt tried to sit up, but Jaskier dug his toes into the mattress, pinning him back down. Geralt tried again, with more force, and Jaskier grunted with the effort. 

“Eskel! Help me!” Jaskier turned to call for Eskel, and Geralt used the action to rip the hood from Jaskier’s face. 

He didn’t expect another body to collide with his other side. 

“Eskel, what the fuck—!” 

Jaskier burrowed into his shoulder, pinning his right leg, and Eskel all but _nuzzled_ into Geralt’s neck. Jaskier had both arms around him, and then Eskel slung a heavy arm over his chest. It was warm. It was safe. It was _not safe_ because Geralt could smell the sweat in Eskel’s hair, and feel his bare chest, and Jaskier’s leg curled around him in ways that made Geralt _want._

“Mmmfh,” Jaskier said, and his weight rolled into Geralt’s side. 

“What?” Geralt snapped. Jaskier lifted his head to glare, and Geralt gave one right back. He didn’t ask for this. This was cuddling sans-consent! This was hugging under duress! This was… Nice. It was too nice, and it made Geralt antsy. He’d done this before with Jaskier where the singer wouldn’t ask probing questions or taunt him, he’d just lay there until Geralt felt better and shoved him off. This was different, was what it was. He didn’t want Eskel there, but he didn’t want Eskel to leave, and he’d never _wanted_ so much in his goddamn life. 

“Move over,” Jaskier said, breaking Geralt out of his spiral. “My ass is hanging off the bed. C’mon, make room.”

_Make room._

Geralt shifted, and Eskel did too. Together, they made a weird impression of an inchworm until Geralt was settled in the middle of his bed, his two closest friends swaddling him like one determined octopus. Geralt tried to wriggle his arms out to get everyone more comfortable, but they both made noises of protest, clinging tighter. 

“I just want my arms, you cretins,” Geralt said, oh so softly. 

They let him move. He curled his arms around them, one laying across Jaskier’s back and the other draped over Eskel’s shoulder. It felt too right, and his heart ached. He resigned himself to enjoying it while it lasted, basking in their attentions before they got too caught up in each other. Geralt fiercely reminded himself that they would always be friends. He was being stupid earlier when the loneliness decended like a black cloud. He wasn’t alone, and that was the point of making space. He had a space with Yennefer and a space with Ciri. A space with Jaskier and Eskel, and now they had this new space with each other, but that didn’t mean Geralt’s space went away. Maybe it just got a little smaller was all. 

“So you two,” Geralt rumbled. The air had been quiet, peaceful. Jaskier shifted against him, propping himself up on one arm so he could analyze Geralt’s face. Eskel, blessedly, didn’t move. “‘S good,” he finished lamely. 

“Eskel told you earlier it wasn’t serious, but it might be,” Jaskier said, watching Geralt closely. Geralt gave no quarter, listening with an absolute neutral expression. “If getting serious would mean things have to change between us, and between you and Eskel, I think I’d like to talk about that.”

Geralt pictured them together, cooking dinner in the kitchen, late nights and muffled moans where Geralt would have to pretend the walls were thicker than they were. He only barely stopped a grimace from sinking his face. 

“I don’t—I can’t promise things won’t be different,” he finally managed to say. This was good. This was talking. This was what had never happened with Yennefer until the end there. 

“Okay. Then I think I speak for both of us when I say we’d rather all stay friends than lose you, Geralt,” Jaskier said. 

“What?”

Eskel tightened his hold across Geralt’s chest and hummed against Geralt’s throat. “He’s right.”

Geralt’s world was knocked off kilter. There was a profound blankness where he was supposed to be feeling and thinking. Feeling guilty for wanting to keep things the way that they were, thinking about how to assure them, how to step back. But sandwiched between them, Geralt’s brain only had room for one thought. 

“I won’t get in the way if you want to be together. I can’t. But…” He swallowed heavily, and he wondered if Eskel could feel his wild heartbeat at his throat. His voice got smaller with every word, “Do you think you could—you could make room? For me?”

Eskel shifted, bringing his face out of Geralt’s neck with a furrow in his brow. Jaskier’s mouth floundered open before he managed to say, “We’ll always have room for you in our lives, Geralt. I just want to be sure I understand what you’re asking.”

Maybe Yennefer was right, and now that they had already come together on their own, maybe, _maybe_ he didn’t have to choose. Geralt curled his arm around Eskel, bringing his hand to tangle in Eskel’s hair. Geralt heard Eskel’s breath hitch knowingly before he kissed him. 

It wasn’t like he remembered. Eskel’s lips were already swollen from his earlier activities, and Geralt couldn’t help the broken whimper at that thought. Eskel pressed forward hungrily, and Geralt ran his tongue over where the scar pulled Eskel’s lip down, feeling hands roam over his chest. He pulled back, both of them panting. Like a shot of warm whiskey, satisfaction curled in his gut at Eskel’s eyes, blown black, and the nearly unconscious way his tongue snuck out to taste his lips. 

“Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier breathed, and Geralt glanced over to see Jaskier in a similar state. “I can share, darling. I won’t keep dear Eskel all to myself.”

“Jask,” Geralt rumbled, rolling his eyes. Geralt snagged the front of the hoodie and yanked Jaskier forward. 

This kiss was different. Jaskier didn’t move, barely a shiver to his mouth, until Geralt had thoroughly mapped the singer’s lips with his tongue and teeth. Even then Jaskier only tilted his mouth open, allowing Geralt to explore inside. Which he did. Enthusiastically. Angrily. Every second that Jaskier imitated a limp doll, Geralt’s movements got rougher, teeth scraping, hand balling in the fabric of the hoodie. Frustrated, Geralt shoved him away with a grimace. 

It immediately melted from his face. He’d never seen Jaskier look so… fragile. 

“I, um—Geralt?” He swallowed heavily. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I do,” Geralt replied. “Because I want to. Are you going to kiss me back this time?”

Jaskier, in a daze, mumbled, “Okay.”

Eskel got to him before Geralt, grabbing Jaskier’s chin and directing his boneless sway to steal a kiss. Geralt hummed in performative displeasure and watched until they broke apart, Jaskier’s eyes shining like the morning sun. 

“So we’re trying this? All of us?”

Geralt answered by yanking him down again, taking his rightfully earned kiss. Jaskier responded in kind this time, and he groaned, the sound going straight to Geralt’s cock as they pressed ever closer. 

“About what you were doing before,” Geralt said against Jaskier’s lips. 

“We’ve got room for one more.” Eskel grinned and snaked out of Geralt’s grip. He put his hands on Jaskier’s hips and jerked, dragging Jaskier’s body to settle over Geralt. The singer let out a squeak that was quickly devoured when Eskel bent him backwards, led with a hand buried in his hair, and claimed his mouth. 

Geralt couldn’t help but press into the bulge in his trousers, just to take the edge off and enjoy the glorious sight in front of him. Jaskier’s body was pulled taut, kneeling over Geralt and arching into Eskel molded to his back. Their mouths met sloppily over Jaskier’s shoulder, and Eskel’s hand roamed freely, hiking up the sweatshirt and tweaking one of Jaskier’s nipples. Geralt reached out to pop the button on the singer’s jeans, earning a groan. 

“Geralt, are you sure this is what you want right now?” Jaskier asked, short of breath. “You just ended things with Yennefer, and it’s been an emotional night…”

Geralt traced the length of Jaskier’s hardening length with one knuckle, feigning pensiveness. 

“Been waiting a long time,” he said. He lingered on Jaskier’s already wrecked expression until the singer nodded, and he glanced over to see Eskel’s wolfish smile. 

Eskel wrestled his sweatshirt off of Jaskier as Geralt pushed the singer’s pants and boxers down enough to free his cock. Jaskier writhed at the first touch, Geralt wrapping a big, warm hand at the base. Geralt pumped in short bursts, barely moving, as he sucked two of his fingers into his mouth. He moaned for show, cheeks hollowing out, and Jaskier panted his name, hips jerking. Geralt’s fingers popped out of his mouth, and he rubbed the wet digits harshly over the head of Jaskier’s cock. 

“Tell him how nice it is,” Eskel said. He tugged Jaskier’s head to the side, latching onto the long curve of his neck. “You were being so good to me earlier.”

“ _Fuck,_ Geralt!” Jaskier whined as Geralt stroked from base to tip. “You’re both going to kill me.”

“Hmm, but what a way to go,” Eskel chuckled. 

Geralt moved lazily over Jaskier’s cock, just enough simulation to keep him writhing, and Geralt snuck one hand around to grasp the ass that had been taunting him for years. It was a tight fit, Jaskier’s pants still mostly done around his hips, but Geralt palmed one cheek roughly. 

“Ah, don’t—!” Jaskier flushed red and jolted away from Geralt’s touch. 

Geralt slowly, deliberately drew his hands back, and Eskel paused his constellation mapping over his neck. 

“I’m sorry, don’t stop,” Jaskier said quietly, guiding Geralt’s hands back to his body. “It’s just…”

Jaskier let out a groan, and the burn on his face flared even higher. Eskel mouthed at his jaw, coaxing him into a sweet kiss that relaxed the sudden tension. 

“It’s just,” Jaskier started again, barely above a whisper. “I’m _leaking_.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Geralt breathed, and the image from earlier splashed across his mind: Jaskier, coming untouched while Eskel’s cock drove into him and then, Eskel filling him up. 

Geralt shoved his hands back down Jaskier’s pants, two fingers greedily searching the evidence of his memory. Geralt found a hot, slick trail out of Jaskier’s desperately clenching hole. He rubbed over the tight muscle, and a small gush of Eskel’s come leaked out as Jaskier’s body begged for Geralt’s fingers. 

“Please,” Jaskier whimpered. 

“Get those fucking things off,” Geralt said to Eskel. He plunged both fingers into Jaskier’s hole, plugging him up while Eskel manhandled him to rip off his pants. Geralt thrust lightly as Jaskier braced himself on Geralt’s chest, the wet noises lost amongst Jaskier’s rising moans. Eskel took the chance to work off his own pants, leaving Geralt the only one left with any clothes. 

“Your turn, wolf,” Eskel said, and a primal edge of Geralt’s mind preened at the old nickname. He pulled Jaskier forward to sit on his stomach, fingers still working unhurriedly. Jaskier’s hand flew to his cock when a spurt of precome threatened to stain Geralt’s shirt. Eskel got to work on Geralt’s pants, and Geralt briefly wondered why more people didn’t do this three person thing; there were just so many hands to take care of so many things. 

“Fuck, Esk, you left him dripping,” Geralt said. He finally took his fingers away but only long enough to throw off his own shirt. 

“He begged for it, isn’t that right, Jaskier? Demanding little brat.” Eskel’s hand covered Jaskier’s where he still gripped his cock. Eskel guided their hands back, revealing the swollen head, and then forward harshly. 

Jaskier cried out and came all over Geralt’s chest. 

He went boneless in Eskel’s arms, pliant as Eskel hoisted him off of Geralt. Eskel placed him flat on his stomach, spreading his legs wide and pressing him down into the sheets. Jaskier whined, flinching away from the rough contact against his oversensitive cock, but it melted into a moan when Eskel’s strength didn’t let him go anywhere. 

“Come on, I know what you’re thinking,” Eskel said, levelling a heady gaze at Geralt. 

Jaskier turned his head from where he’d been shoved into the mattress, eyes drunkenly wandering over his best friend who now happened to be his lover. Hair pulled from its tie and wild, body sculpted from scarred marble, and his fingers were stroking over his chest, rubbing Jaskier’s spend into his skin. Jaskier’s tongue fumbled in his mouth, but he was determined to live up to Eskel’s earlier request. 

“You look so pretty with my come on you,” Jaskier said, voice raw. 

“You’re just pretty,” Geralt shot back, and he rolled onto his side to give Jaskier a quick kiss. 

Eskel’s hands kneaded Jaskier’s thighs, his ass, spreading him open just enough to watch the come and lube slip down, over his balls to wet the sheets. Jaskier felt it and stirred, trying to get away, trying to get more, until Geralt broke the kiss.

“Okay, you’re right, Esk. Move over.” Geralt shifted down the bed to take Eskel’s place, but the bastard just grinned.

“Don’t you think you should at least warn him?” Eskel rested a hand at the base of Jaskier’s spine, halting his squirming. 

“You want me to? Want me to talk about eating your come out of his ass? Cleaning up the mess you made?” Geralt got closer to Eskel with each question and punctuated it by lunging forward. Their teeth clacked together, one of Eskel’s hands coming up to _pull_ on Geralt’s hair. 

Jaskier tried to turn, but Eskel’s weight kept him down and then Geralt added his, another hand at his back, trapping him. He managed to crane his neck and moaned at the sight of them. It wasn’t much of a kiss as a show of _force,_ each intent on devouring the other and both somehow accomplishing the goal. Jaskier was glad they had each other, for surely he would crumble beneath an onslaught like that. They didn’t seem to mind, though, his tendency to roll over and take it. 

“I want you to fuck my face while you eat him out,” Eskel gasped. 

“Fuck yeah.”

Eskel scrambled back, allowing Geralt his place to hover over Jaskier. Geralt leaned down, delivering a sharp bite that made the singer yelp. He soothed over it with his tongue as he let Eskel guide his body back, spreading his knees wide to accommodate broad shoulders. Eskel ducked under, spreading Geralt even wider as he settled in, Geralt shivering at the stretch in his thighs. 

“You been a good boy, wolf? Not going around using this cock on just anybody, are you?” Eskel pressed a kiss to Geralt’s trembling thigh, breath ghosting over Geralt’s cock. 

“And we thought I was the talker,” Jaskier laughed breathlessly. 

“Only been with Yennefer.” Geralt’s hips twitched forward. “And she’d kill me herself if I ever gave her anything.”

“Good boy,” Eskel purred. 

He wrapped his lips around Geralt’s cock, reaching around and grabbing handfuls of his ass to use as leverage, to guide him forward. Geralt had to trust fully in those guiding touches, knew he would lose control, thrust before Eskel was ready, if he didn’t obey. With half the length in his mouth, Eskel rubbed over Geralt’s hole as a reminder. 

With great willpower, Geralt dragged himself away from the feeling of Eskel’s heavenly mouth. He spread Jaskier open with both hands and blew cold air over where his hole fluttered in anticipation. Tension crackled up Jaskier’s spine, but Geralt had his ass right where he wanted it. He gave one long lick over his hole, tasting the sweat and spend and lube, before diving in, shoving his tongue passed Jaskier’s clenched ring. 

Jaskier howled, and Eskel hummed knowingly, remembering what it was like to be at the mercy of Geralt’s mouth. The sound vibrated over Geralt’s cock, eyes rolling back in his head and hands flexing over Jaskier’s ass. It became the filthiest feedback loop, Jaskier wordlessly shouting his pleasure and Eskel responding on Geralt’s cock, an answer and reward in one. Geralt only tried harder, fucking his tongue in and out of Jaskier, lapping at the mixture that spilled out every time he tried to clamp around Geralt’s tongue. The taste of it was so familiar, Eskel’s flavor coming back to him after all this time, but something else too, something clean and slippery. 

“Did you use my lube to fuck him?” Geralt rasped, spit and other things running down his chin. 

Eskel gave his cock a hard suck before pulling off and saying, “I was out.”

“I believe that means, gentlemen,” Jaskier said. “That this was meant to be.”

Eskel chuckled, but he didn’t waste time and sunk back over Geralt’s cock. Concentration broken, Geralt was finding it hard to focus on anything but the hot, wet clutch of Eskel’s mouth, the excruciating tightness when he popped into Eskel’s throat. Jaskier squirmed where he was still held down, and Geralt licked over his hole in apology. He was intent on getting back to it, but Eskel suddenly found his balls, squeezing, and Geralt’s mouth went slack. 

“Sorry,” Geralt mumbled. “Fuck, Esk. Always so fucking good.”

“I don’t care, Geralt, just let me see!” Jaskier braced his knees on the bed and tried again to lift himself up. Geralt let it happen, barely conscious enough to notice the change. 

Eskel’s hand travelled further back and paused to massage over his perineum. Geralt’s breaths came in short puffs. He could only spare his mouth long enough to press open kisses to Jaskier’s ass, to reach out his tongue and lave over Jaskier’s balls drawn tight against his body. Everything else was dedicated to Eskel’s mouth, soft, sucking, _demanding._ Geralt’s grip turned bruising on Jaskier’s hips, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Jaskier was likewise mesmerized, head hanging between his shoulders as he gazed down the odd tunnel their bodies made. Eskel’s dark hair was mussed, and his face flushed all the way to his ears. His mouth was stretched obscenely wide around Geralt’s cock, and Jaskier’s jaw ached in sympathy. Eskel’s head tipped back, just a little, just enough for his eyes to catch Jaskier’s hooded gaze. At the next thrust, Geralt let out a strangled moan and emptied down Eskel’s throat. Jaskier watched Eskel’s eyes slide shut, his mouth still working over the slowly softening length. When he’d swallowed it all, Eskel relented and pressed a kiss to the wiry hair at the base. 

“God, I missed that,” Geralt breathed. 

Eskel slipped out from between Geralt’s legs, and Geralt collapsed like a newborn foal. Jaskier let his chest fall back to the bed, less enthused to put his poor abused cock back against the sheets even if it meant he was presenting like a bitch in heat. 

“Well, isn’t that just an invitation,” Eskel rumbled, and Jaskier felt a thick finger slide into his hole. Barely any resistance. 

“Hmmm.” Geralt dug his thumbs into Jaskier’s calves, soothing the tense muscles. Eskel pushed in a second finger and crooked them, hitting Jaskier’s prostate dead on. 

“Wait,” Jaskier breathed, but it was too quiet to be understood. Eskel nailed his prostate again, fingers twisting, and Jaskier jerked back involuntarily. “Wait!”

Eskel’s fingers slowed but didn’t still, a questioning hum rising from his chest. 

“I don’t want to come yet,” Jaskier said. 

“Alright,” Eskel replied and pulled out. Jaskier bit his lip against the whine that would undermine his request. “What do you want, then? I got to do what I wanted, and Geralt got to do what he wanted. It’s up to you now.”

Jaskier rocked forward and turned to sit, facing them on the bed. Geralt was blissed out, laying in a suspiciously damp area of sheets, but Eskel was still hard and kneeling where he was fingering Jaskier. 

“I’d like to come on Geralt’s cock, if he thinks he’s up for another round,” Jaskier said, smirking at the way Geralt perked up for the challenge. “And while he’s recovering from your otherworldly cocksucking skills, I’d like it if he could help me get you off again.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Jaskier leaned down to whisper in Geralt’s ear, and Eskel’s eyes narrowed at the impish grins that blossomed on both their faces. 

“Just lay back, and let us take care of you, my dear,” Jaskier crooned. 

…

Geralt was glad for Jaskier’s delicate sensibilities when he woke up in a pile of limbs that was sticky only from sweat. He extracted himself carefully, though he knew Jaskier slept like the dead after sex. Eskel roused just enough to protest Geralt’s absence with a pout. That little frown and pinch of the eyebrows, Eskel’s hair flattened to one side of his face but wild on the other, Jaskier just barely snoring on his chest—

It all slotted together. 

Like the world moved but didn’t go anywhere at all. Geralt knew in that instant he would try. He would try so damn hard every day to make this work, and he knew he would have to.

He started coffee and got some things out to make breakfast. 

Because he knew it was going to happen sooner or later, he decided to call Yennefer. 

“That was fast,” she said in lieu of a greeting. 

“I haven’t told you anything yet,” Geralt grumbled, and he could practically hear her deadpan stare. 

“You only call me with news, so what’s the news?” 

Geralt only had one shot at this, so he started off with, “Jaskier and Eskel were fucking when I got home.”

Geralt took no small amount of joy in her calculating silence. It wasn’t often he pulled one over on her, and this was payback for blindsiding him with the knowledge that she was seeing Sabrina _while they both lived with their impressionable young daughter._

“I’m sorry for teasing. That couldn’t have been easy,” Yennefer finally said. Geralt hummed and flipped on the burner to start heating the oil for bacon. 

“Yeah, we ended up having a fight about it. Eskel knows I want Jaskier, and he was willing to step aside if I asked.” 

“Did you—?”

“No,” Geralt said, struggling to keep his tone flat. 

He spotted Jaskier, swathed in a fuzzy blanket, shuffling out of his room. Eskel followed behind, and Geralt didn’t miss the concerned confusion on his face. He imagined he’d looked about the same the first time he saw Jaskier without his appropriate beauty sleep. Jaskier was the bubbliest, most annoying person on Earth until he missed out on a REM cycle, and that was when the true devil emerged. 

“So, are they together?” Yennefer asked. 

Jaskier made a beeline for the coffee, helping himself to cream and sugar. He already knew where everything was. Eskel paused just before stepping into the kitchen. 

“Yeah,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier bounced his forehead off Geralt’s shoulder until Geralt reached out to gather him, blanket and all against his chest. Jaskier slouched, so he could fit underneath Geralt’s chin and keep drinking his coffee. Eskel’s lips pressed together, and Geralt knew that look. 

He mouthed, _he’s fine_ over Jaskier’s head, and it eased some of the tension in Eskel’s shoulders. This was what he could do. He knew them both so well; he could help them learn each other. He pressed a kiss into Jaskier’s hair. 

“Are you okay?” 

Jaskier flinched away at the digital sound of Yennefer’s voice. He padded sleepily over to Eskel until he ran right into him. Eskel’s worry softened, and he put an arm around Jaskier, guiding him over to where they could cuddle on the couch. 

“Yeah, it actually turns out they have room for me,” Geralt said. 

A moment of silence. 

“Oh, well you’re a bastard, and I take back any apologies that happened on this call,” Yennefer replied with a huff. 

“See you, Yen.”

“Go have fun. Don’t let your insecurities—“

Geralt hung up and got himself a cup of coffee. He pulled open the package of bacon with his teeth. He counted down the glowing green minutes on the microwave until Jaskier would storm in and demand bacon, and Eskel would likely stage a kitchen coup to make sure it was crispy enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> Love our boys and I love a thruple <3  
> As always, kudos and comments fuel the machine.


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